


Words of Good Cheer

by briizy



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Baking, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Gift Giving, Ice Skating, M/M, Snowball Fight
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-08 01:55:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8825662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/briizy/pseuds/briizy
Summary: Nine Days of Christmas, NurseyDex style!A new day means a new prompt - which means a new chapter! Hopefully.





	1. Decorating the Haus

**Author's Note:**

> title from Carol of the Bells just because
> 
> prompts are listed in the end notes if you would like them! i unfortunately can't remember which tumblr blog I got the list from, so hit me up if you happen to know!
> 
> come talk to me about anything at my [tumblr!](http://sinbinhagelin.tumblr.com/)

Most of the Samwell Men’s Hockey Team (and the rest of the Samwell campus, to be honest) aren’t going to deny the fact that the Haus is a high-energy place for most occasions. Nothing, though, and they do mean _nothing_ , compares to the Haus around Christmas time. So, the minute the calendar hits December 1st, Ransom and Holster call a team meeting, agenda _Holiday Haus Motherfuckers_. The first item on the list?

Decorating.

And that is how Derek Nurse finds himself shuffling precariously on one of the shitty ladders they had hiding in the basement, hands wrapped in tinsel, trying to tack up some holiday decorations in the Haus hallway.

“Wait, _woah_ , what the fuck, who the hell let you up there?” Derek startles as a voice rings out from below him, jerking back a little and beginning to lose his balance. He starts to waver and dimly hears the thump of something hitting the floor before he feels a warm hand on his lower back and another on his hip. They steady his movement and lean him forward until he has his wits about him. Derek looks down to see Dex grimacing up at him.

“See?” he says, poking at Derek’s stomach. “Can’t be trusted.” Dex kind of smiles up at Derek, which takes the slight sting out of his words, but a chirp is a chirp and Derek must defend his honor.

“Oh, I’m sorry, what exactly made me lose my balance in the first place?” he drawls. “I seem to recall a certain someone whose name rhymes with Fill Joinhexter rudely disrupting my concentration.” He sniffs and turns back to the tinsel. He hears Dex huff out a laugh below him and has to hide a grin of his own.

“Wow, Nurse, those poetry classes are really paying off. ‘Fill Joinhexter,’ I can hear the influences.” He gestures dramatically. “Emerson, Keats, Byron.” Derek raises an eyebrow.

“How—”

“I went to high school, Nursey, don’t look so surprised.” He begins to walk off to the kitchen, clearly intent on hunting out something to eat.

“Oh yeah? Name five of their albums.” Derek calls after him, laughing.

“Fuck off, Nurse!” He’s only just gone back to his work when he hears the floor boards near the kitchen entryway creak again,

“Hey, Nursey?” Dex asks. Derek twists around, mind still half on the placement of the paper snowflake Chowder had made. Dex tilts his head and, his expression gentle, begins to move towards Derek, speaking softly all the while.

“And on that cheek, and o’er that brow, so soft, so calm, yet eloquent, the smiles that win, the tints that glow, but tell of days in goodness spent, a mind at peace with all below, a heart whose love is innocent.” He blinks up at Derek a second longer, his freckles lit up by the sun pouring in through the kitchen, and seems to consider the look on Derek’s undoubtedly shocked face. Dex’s eyes crinkle and he breaks into a blinding grin before he starts to laugh.

Derek throws a piece of tinsel at him as he beats a quick retreat, still laughing. The fucker.


	2. Ice Skating

The Samwell hockey teams host an event every year when the Pond freezes solid; the local kids get to strap on some skates and join the players on the ice for an hour or so. Dex kind of loves watching all the little kiddos stumble about, looking for some sort of purchase on the slick surface. He’s got a gentle glide going on next to Bitty as they shepherd a group of kids across the ice, taking care to not run into anyone.

Even though he does it every day, Dex will never lose the rush of joy he feels when he gets out on the ice. He loves feeling the bite of his skates, the cold rush of wind across his cheeks and through his hair, the work of his muscles as he pushes off and glides away. He’s tried describing exactly what he feels, but he doesn’t have Bitty’s exuberance, Chowder’s sincerity, Nursey’s eloquence. So, he keeps his (somewhat too poetic) thoughts to himself, but deep in his heads he likes to think there’s a certain beauty that even he can carve into the ice below.

Dex shakes his head and returns to the present, nodding along to whatever it is Bitty’s talking about now (something about his Music, Power, and Society class? Maybe?). He loves Bitty, really, but the guy is a bit of a chatterbox sometimes, and Dex has gotten very good at picking out the important bits of his conversation.

He scans the Pond, picking out the red sweaters of the Samwell players amongst the few adults and dozens of little kids. His eyes catch on #28 emblazoned across the jersey across the ice.

Nursey is grinning down at a little girl who skates directly into his legs, unable to stop herself. He leans down to steady her before she falls back and kneels down to her level, still smiling at her. His green eyes shine brightly as he laughs at something she’s said, her little pigtails poking out from under her hat and little mittened hands waving a bit wildly.

Nursey reaches out to adjust her scarf and stop it from slipping off before standing up, holding out his hand. The little girl can clearly be seen babbling on as Nursey looks down at her. He’s still grinning, the white of his teeth nearly blind against the sunlit ice, his hair ruffling in the wind a bit as he looks up and makes eye contact with Dex.

Who skates directly into Holster.

It’s a good thing the guy is so huge, since he catches Dex with one hand when he stumbles over his skates, yanking him back upright and raising an eyebrow when he follows Dex’s sightline and sees Nursey chuckling into his collar.

“Dex. Bro,” he says “Eyes up.” Ransom nods along next to him.

“Not on Nursey’s admittedly very fine ass,” Rans adds in a whisper, conscious of the innocent ears around them. Dex shoots him a withering glare but can’t stop the fire-red blush from arching up his cheeks. He gives them both a punch in the shoulder and skates away.

“You good, Dex?” Nursey calls from a few feet ahead, hand still wrapped around the light blue mitten of the girl next to him.

“Yeah, you gotta be careful!” she says, blinking up with huge brown eyes at Dex. “The ice hurts when you fall.” She huffs. “I know, I’ve done it.” Dex can’t help but to smile at her lisp, one of her front teeth missing. He comes to a slow stop next to them and crouches down to look her in the eye.

“Well, that’s okay,” he says. “Everyone falls every once in a while. I’m really glad you got back up, though, since you can skate with us now!” The girl grins back at him and sticks out her hand, demanding. Dex laughs and looks up at Nursey, whose face is a mask of soft fondness. He’s haloed by the sun over his left shoulder and his broad shoulders have a light dusting of snow, his thick coat nicely tailored to show off the gentle slope of his waist and length of his legs. Dex doesn’t even notice that their eyes have locked until he feels a light tug at his hand.

“Are we gonna go now?” He hears. Nursey shakes his head and looks at the girl instead.

“Sure, Emma,” he says. “Once Dex here decides to stand up.”

“Dex! Let’s go!” Dex can literally feel his heart melt at the lisp she puts on the “x” in his name. He and Nursey each have one of her hands as they slowly start off, making sure she doesn’t get too ahead of herself.

It’s only the next day that Dex realizes how they looked. An edition of the _Daily_ comes out highlighting the Wellie Skate, pictures of the players and attendees scattered throughout the article. There’s one of him, Nursey, and Emma in it.

The picture was taken from behind, the three of them directly in front of the camera, the #24 and #28 bright against the red of their sweaters and the blue of Emma’s coat a sharp counterpoint. Dex is looking down at her, hair fire red in the dying sunlight, a smile on his face as his hand holds tight to hers. She’s looking forward, but there’s a determination in the set of shoulders. She had certainly been insistent on being “the best skater” by the end of the day. Dex’s breath catches as his gaze shifts over to Nursey in the photo; his d-partner isn’t looking at Emma at all. Instead, his eyes are trained on Dex, that same softly fond look on his face. He’s in sharp profile, the slope of his nose highlighted on the light background, and his cheekbones looks ridiculous combined with his light stubble.

The Dex in the photo is oblivious to the expression on Nursey’s face, but the Dex now is entirely conscious. He recognizes it, of course, since he can feel it on his own face when no is watching, when Derek Nurse is in the vicinity.

He brushes a finger across the scene and smiles.

And if he cuts the picture out and keeps it in the desk drawer of his dorm room, no one has to know. Not yet, at least.


	3. Baking Christmas Treats

The soft green light from the clock on Betsy 2.0 casts deep shadows across the empty kitchen, the numbers shining 3:27 AM. A quiet creaking can be heard from the hallway as socked feet creep across the rickety floorboards of the Haus, nearing the kitchen.

Dex appears in the door frame, his hand tight around an old notecard, stained and soft around the edges like it’s been handled countless times. His other arm is full of candles, which he puts around the oven and adjacent counter space before lighting them with the matches he sneaks from a kitchen drawer. He doesn’t want the harsh lights of the kitchen overhead breaking the atmosphere he’s got going on, so the candles help illuminate the room for him. He carefully smooths out the folded edges of the notecard and smiles at the familiar feminine handwriting.

_Gingerbread Recipe – Recipe from Nana (Eileen Poindexter)_.

Baking Christmas cookies together was always one of Dex’s favorite Poindexter traditions. They’d make enough to fill up their dining room table and then some, a dozen different kinds, from the classic sugar and gingerbread to peanut butter blossoms, Russian tea cakes, snickerdoodles, shortbread; you name it, the Poindexter’s probably baked it. Dex has warm memories of sitting on the kitchen counter, pressing the cookie cutters into the dough after his Nana and Mom had rolled it out, aprons dusted with flour and sugar, smiles bright in the afternoon sun, singing along to the Christmas music playing out of the radio.

As much as he loves Bitty, the guy can be a bit anal about his baking. Plus, he makes all these southern desserts that Dex appreciates, alright, he really does, but they’re sweet enough to make his teeth hurt just looking at them. His pies are amazing, of course, because pies are universal and Bitty can kick ass with any pecan or sweet potato dessert, but the divinity was too much for Dex. Once he discovered it was essentially sugar and egg whites, well…he needed a break.

And that’s why he’s down in the Haus kitchen at 3:30 in the morning, setting out the ingredients to his Nana’s gingerbread recipe. He’s avoiding Hurricane Bittle and keeping this soft little part of him hidden away from the chirps he expects from the rest of the team, but he just feels that some of the Poindexter gingerbread needs to be made. He kind of wants to indulge himself for once, let himself be a little homesick as the holiday season approaches.

He loses himself in the methodical measuring of ingredients, the careful addition of spices to the mix. The scent of the cloves and molasses spreads through the still air of the kitchen as Dex hums quietly to himself, stirring together the ingredients until the dough forms, feeling the strength in his forearm as he mixes.

He’s scraping the sides of the bowl when he hears a startled sort of noise from behind him.

“ _Jesus Christ_.” Dex whirls around, spatula held out like some sort of sword, heartbeat pounding through his chest.

“…Sup.” Nursey blinks at him from the entryway, rubbing a hand over one of his eyes like a little kid. _Cute_ , Dex thinks, followed immediately by _Wait, what the fuck_. “Sorry about that, man,” Nursey says, interrupting his train of thought. Nursey scans the kitchen, raising an eyebrow at the candles lighting the room with a soft glow, raising the other at the mixing bowl and ingredients on the counter.

His eyes are dancing by the time they alight back on Dex, whose face is undoubtedly the color of the Santa’s suit on the wall.

“Shut up,” he says immediately, a little viciously defensive, brandishing the spatula at him. Nursey raises his hands in mock surrender.

“I didn’t say anything!” He protests. Dex squints at him.

“Yes, you did.”

“What? No, I didn’t!”

“I could _feel_ it.”

“Sure, Poindexter.” Nursey grins at him fondly, a little too candid in the early dark of morning. He takes in the bits of flour dusting Dex’s shirt, scanning the ingredients behind him, and his eyes soften almost imperceptibly.

He steps forward, reaching towards the spatula Dex still has in his hand, curling his palm around the wooden handle, warm fingers overlapping slightly with Dex’s. Without taking his eyes off Dex, he brings the spatula up to his mouth and licks off some of the dough, green eyes burning earnestly in the glow of the candle flames.

Dex can feel his cheeks go even redder, can feel his mouth drop open a little bit as he watches the pink edge of Nursey’s tongue clean off the side of the spatula. Nursey hums a bit as he pulls back, eyes closing until they’re resting half-mast, mulling over the taste.

Dex almost buckles at the knees when Nursey’s eyes slip all the way shut and a quiet moan echoes through the small space between them.

“Dex, this is…really good.” Dex coughs and tries to gather any sort of semblance of English in his head again.

“Uh, I, yeah, thanks,” he stumbles, looking down at his socked feet, the smiling penguins on them cheering merrily up at him.

“No, man, I’m serious, this is _really good_.” Nursey’s voice is quiet and a little surprised. Dex doesn’t take it personally, of course, since he knows he doesn’t come across as a guy who can whip up a mean batch of Christmas cookies. He huffs out a laugh at Nursey’s comment anyways and realizes that he’s still got Nursey’s hand wrapped around his on the spatula. He tugs a little and then again when Nursey doesn’t budge.

“Um, Nurse.”

“Shut up, Dex, let me eat this.” He brings the spatula back up to his mouth and blessedly keeps his eyes down this time, so Dex gets a moment of respite. It is just a moment though, as Nursey cleans off the flat pad of the utensil and looks up at Dec through his thick eyelashes, the silence settling heavy around their shoulders like a well-worn blanket. The only thing Dex can hear is the slight snap of the candle flames behind him and his own heartbeat thumping slowly in his ears.

Nursey lowers the spatula and releases Dex’s hand.

Dex can feel the heat pouring off Nursey’s sleep-warm body, the brush of his fingers against Dex’s hip, the light caress of his breath across his cheek. He’s transfixed by the holly green of Nursey’s eyes, the sharp line of his jaw, and the curve of his lips where they part slightly on an exhale of a word.

“ _Will_.”

His name hovers in the air, suspended between them, a tremulous line of connection that shortens as Nursey leans forward, balancing on his toes.

He kisses the corner of Dex’s mouth, lips warm on his skin. Dex is frozen as Nursey holds the position before shifting back and pressing a second kiss to the other corner, dragging his nose across Dex’s cheek. He leans their foreheads together and exhales again, a slow breath of shock, of want, of fear.

Dex can feel him trembling slightly, a nervous shake that only increases in intensity when the silence between them stretches on. Nursey begins to retreat when Dex brings up one hand to curve over his stubbled cheek and brushes a thumb under his eye. His face is open, softer than it’s been in months, and he doesn’t speak. He smiles at Nursey and wraps his other hand tight around his waist, keeping him pressed in tight. Nursey’s eyes are wide as Dex rubs a circle over his ribs and strokes a fingertip over his temple.

“Dex, I—” he starts to say, but Dex hushes him with a quiet sound, face serious once more.

“I know, Derek,” he murmurs, “I know.” The corner of his mouth lifts in a smile. “Me, too.”

He holds Nursey still and kisses him gently, pale eyelashes fanned out across his freckled cheekbone, expression soft and brow unfurrowed. Nursey makes a small noise into his mouth and Dex _can’t believe this is happening oh god oh god, it’s Nursey_ , who steps into his embrace and wraps his arms around Dex’s shoulders. One of his broad palms curls around his neck, and his fingers card through the soft hair at the nape of Dex’s neck.

They kiss there, lips brushing gently as they make out alone in the kitchen, cookie dough forgotten on the counter behind them, until Betsy 2.0 beeps merrily at them, a reminder that she’s fully preheated. Dex breaks off the kiss and presses his smile into Nursey’s cheek. He sinks into Nursey’s arms and nuzzles into the join of neck and shoulder, content to absorb all of this in the dark of the early morning, the scent of gingerbread thick in the air.

He feels Nursey’s fingers card through his hair, his head leaning against Dex’s upturned temple, and grins into the collar of the soft shirt below him.

“Thanks, Nana,” he whispers, feeling the rumble of Nursey’s chest as he makes a questioning noise, but only pulls back to kiss him once more, thoughts of home and family dancing in his head.


	4. Shopping for Gifts

“Honey, have you done your Christmas shopping yet?” Derek looks up from his laptop to blink blearily at Bitty from across the living room.

“Chyeah,” he sighs out, rubbing at his eyes. “I just have to write Dex’s and Ransom’s gifts.” From the corner of his eye, he can see Bitty still, his shoulders stiffening. He turns around, brown eyes worried, and wrings the dusting cloth in his hands.

“Um, Nursey, you’re getting Dex something besides a poem, right?”

“…no? Why? What’s wrong?” Derek sits up from his languid sprawl. He narrows his eyes at Bitty. “They’re not that bad, are th—”

“Oh, Nursey, no! Of course not!” Bitty shakes his head vigorously, apparently appalled with himself that Derek would even _think_ he would disparage something his frogs had made like that. “I just…” he trails off, looking away, and takes a breath. “I just think that maybe you should get Dex something special, that’s all. Not that your poems aren’t special, of course, but getting him the same thing you get everyone else alone isn’t,” Bitty pauses again, tilting his hand back and forth before shrugging. “Romantic.” Derek furrows his brow.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Well, shit. Derek usually relies on his money and his words for gifts, but he knows Bitty’s got a point. He’ll still write Dex the poem, of course, because there’s few things in the world Derek loves more than poetry and Dex, especially in combination. He hangs his head in his hands, palms pressed to his temples as he tries to think of something else to get his boyfriend.

Four hours later, Derek is in the exact same position – head in hands, elbows braced on his knees. This time, though, he’s in the local mall, existential despair rolling through him as the sounds of the happily bubbling fountain to his right and the chatter of hundreds of people going about their shopping fills his ears. It’s been a long day.

He’s gone into a dozen stores looking for something Dex might like, something that doesn’t seem trivial, but Derek is picky with his gifts. It’s why he tries to make them himself, most of the time.

He fiddles with the edge of his sweater and chews on his lip, trying to think of anoth– _wait a second. His sweater!_

Derek looks down at the shirt he has on, a distant memory of Dex curled against him in his narrow dorm bed, eyelashes fanned red-gold against his cheek as his hand brushed back and forth over the fabric over Derek’s heart. He had shifted, his leg pressed between Derek’s, and snuggled in closer under Derek’s arm, making that happy rumbling noise he only lets out when he’s exhausted.

“Wear this more often,” he had mumbled, words half lost into Derek’s chest. “S’comfy.”

Derek had smiled and rubbed a hand over Dex’s ribs, pressing his mouth to his hairline in a gentle kiss.

Brought abruptly back to the present, Derek feels like Archimedes reincarnated, proclaiming _Eureka, Eureka!_  to anyone who would listen. He shoots off the bench and strides with purpose towards the mall map. The floodgates have opened and the ideas come rolling in.

* * *

 

Derek is on Dex’s bed, leaned against the wall with Dex’s head on his thigh, reading with one hand while Dex plays with the other like he does when he’s feeling a little fidgety or nervous. Derek’s content to wait him out, which can take anywhere from ten minutes to four days. He smiles to himself when he feels Dex huff and shift off him, rolling off the bed and heading towards his backpack, abandoned by the door.

“So, uh. Here you go,” he says, a little awkwardly. “You don’t have to open it now, just, you know. Um. Merry Christmas.”

Dex blushes shyly at him and gruffly sticks a present into Derek’s hands, wrapping slightly askew and bow half falling off from its journey in Dex’s bag. Derek loves it immensely already. He presses a kiss to Dex’s reddening cheek and retrieves his own gift from under his bed, handing it to Dex.

“Thanks, babe,” he says quietly, shifting back to rest against the wall again, patting the bed next to him. Dex climbs up, and the warmth from his shoulder against Derek’s soothes his slight nerves. Dex tilts his head at him, gesturing at the gift in Derek’s hands.

Derek pulls off the bow and sets it on his desk lamp, then tears open the paper to reveal a smart black box and a book. Intrigued, he pulls out the book from beneath the box and sees a slightly battered copy of Shel Silverstein’s _Where the Sidewalk Ends_. The cover is beginning to fray along the edges, the cloth wearing away, and the pages are clearly well-thumbed. He slides a reverent hand down the spine and smiles before he looks up at Dex.

“I don’t know all that much about poems, but this book was something I read over and over as a kid,” Dex grins, a little self-deprecating. “Um, check the inside cover.” Curious, Derek folds open the book and glosses a thumb over the blue scratches of ink on the page.

There’s a short poem etched out on the page there, unobtrusive and witty, beginning with _Dear Will_ and finished with _Love, Shel Silverstein_. Derek can feel his mouth drop open.

“You have an original Silverstein poem!?” he asks, incredulous. Dex huffs out a quiet laugh.

“Yeah. My mom was such a big fan that she went and got a copy signed for me before I was even born.”

“This is incredible.” Derek pauses, hands still careful on the pages of the book. “Wait, you’re giving it to me?” he sputters, taken aback. Dex gives a shrug and smiles at him.

“Like I said, I don’t have the appreciation for poetry you do. Plus, I know that if anyone’s going to take care of it,” He nudges Derek’s shoulder. “It’ll be you.” Derek carefully places the book on his desk before wrapping his arms around Dex, who laughs and hugs him back.

“Thank you,” Derek says into his neck, grinning. “I love it.”

“Aw, geez.” Derek can feel the heat of Dex’s blush as it rushes up his skin. “Yeah, no problem, Nurse. Now, finish opening your gift, alright?” Derek presses a kiss to his cheek before falling back into his own space and picking up the box.

He cracks open the lid and grins down at the solitary tortoiseshell pen that rests in the case. He picks it up, testing the weight of it, and focuses on Dex as he watches from the other side of the bed.

“Yeah?” he says, a hint of nerves in his voice.

“It’s perfect.” Derek confirms, admiring the smooth cover of the pen. He pulls out one of his many notebooks from under his pillow and uncaps the pen to write something in his flowing handwriting on the creamy pages. The pen glides smoothly across the paper, deep blue ink that rests like velvet against the surface of the notebook.

_I love you._

Dex’s eyes go wide as Derek shows him what he’s written, amber flashing gold in the afternoon light.

“I love you, too,” he says, quietly. He wraps a hand around one of Derek’s and presses a kiss to his palm. “I’m glad you like them.”

“Will…I can’t tell you how much it means.” Derek shakes his head and glances at Dex. He knows that Dex is frugal, to say the least, and he realizes the weight of the gesture in giving him an expensive pen and an even more valuable book. His boyfriend blushes again, blinking down at his lap and smiling to himself. He lets himself relax around Derek, a gift that isn’t as tangible as the two in his hands, but one that Derek treasures all the same.

“Well, I guess it’s my turn now.” Dex says, crinkling the festive wrapping paper as he picks up the gift Derek has gotten him. He carefully dissects the present, peeling off the tape and bow before folding back the paper and pulling out the box inside. When he opens it up, he’s greeted by a sheet of Derek’s expensive paper, a free verse poem copied carefully onto it in Derek’s best handwriting. He had cleared out his trash the day before to avoid letting Dex see how many times he had tried to get the look of the poem just right.

Dex picks up the sheet of paper and turns his attention to the words on it, reading intently. His expression softens halfway through and by the end his eyes are warm enough to light a fire that burns brightly in Derek’s chest. Dex doesn’t speak, doesn’t want to break the moment, so he leans into Derek’s shoulder and lays his head down. He reads the poem again, and Derek can just barely see the edge of his smile.

“Thank you, Derek,” Dex says, “It’s beautiful.”

“You’re welcome,” Derek replies, just as softly. He nudges the box towards Dex. “You’ve got a few more things in there.” Dex looks surprised, then pleased, and Derek reminds himself to thank Bitty later.

Dex lifts up a piece of tissue paper to reveal a silver object pressed on top of a deep green sweater. He picks up the silver thing and turns it about, fiddling with all the edges and odd lines.

“It’s a card that you can keep in your wallet. There’s something like thirty functions built into it so you can do all your handyman stuff without lugging around your tool kit.” Derek shrugs. “It’ll work in a pinch.” Dex’s eyes crinkle as he looks down at the card, seeing how each of the grooves could work as one of his larger tools. He pulls out his beaten up wallet and slides the card into it, snapping it shut directly after.

“Tada!” He proclaims, shaking his wallet. “I don’t even feel it in there, that’s awesome! Thank you,” he says again, grinning. He keeps smiling as he looks down at the sweater still in the box, a funny expression on his face appearing after he brushes a thumb over it. “Is this…”

“Yeah, I’ve got the same one,” Derek says, laughing. “You seemed to like it so much, so I figured I’d get you one too.” Dex is quiet, looking down at the deep green of the fabric. When he looks up at Derek, his face is solemnly serious.

“We’re gonna have the softest fucking cuddles ever now,” he says determinedly. Derek can’t help but to kiss him, laughing into his mouth when he can’t stop giggling, so happy that all of this worked out the way he had hoped.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” Derek says with another kiss.

“Merry Christmas,” comes the reply, soft and steady, just like Dex’s heartbeat against his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't write poetry to save my life, so please imagine a wonderfully written and perfectly balanced poem from Nursey to Dex, if that's cool. I promise you, literally anything you come up with would be better than whatever I would try to write.


	5. Decorating the Christmas Tree

Dex sits cross-legged on the floor of the Haus living room, methodically plugging in the strings of lights to test if any aren’t working after long months in the basement. If he finds one, he replaces it with one of the stray bulbs that lie in a tub by his left side, painstakingly fixing the lights one by one.

Christmas music mixes with the low voices of the team as they mull about the room, putting up decorations. Bitty, Chowder, and Lardo are hanging up stockings along the wall, each team member with a personalized little sock bedazzled by Bitty and Lardo’s combined efforts. Ransom and Holster are directing Ollie and Wicks in positioning the tree, and Nursey appears from the basement door, holding a large storage bin, his biceps outlined in his tight Henley. Dex absentmindedly follows the line of his arms, lingering on the forearm muscles standing out from where his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows.

Nursey puts the box down near the tree, where Ransom and Holster finally seem pleased with its placement, and comes to lounge on the couch across from Dex, sighing out as he collapses.

Dex finds a loose bulb and bites his lip as he screws it back in, excited to be almost finished with the task. He holds up the string, triumphant, and catches Nursey’s eye from across the room. Nursey gives him a languid thumbs up and drops his head back onto the couch, eyes fluttering half-shut. He’s startled back upright when Holster claps a giant hand on his shoulder, a manic gleam in his blue eyes.

“Bro. No napping during Christmas tree decorating,” he says. Ransom raises a perfectly arched eyebrow and pokes Nursey on the shoulder.

“Come on, man,” he prods, “Get into the spirit.” Nursey waves a hand and heaves himself up, stretching his arms above his head. Dex’s eyes catch on the stripe of dark skin that reveals itself, the sharp cut of Nursey’s hipbone, the light waistband of his briefs. He’s shaken out of his stupor when Lardo passes in front of him in search of more nails.

Dex snaps his eyes back down to the lights in his hands and sets the string into its careful pile before standing himself. He looks up when Holster calls his name and dutifully wanders over.

“So. _Game Plan_ ,” Ransom says, pulling out a sheet of paper from his jacket pocket. “We’re double teaming this bitch. Working from bottom to top _and_ top to bottom.” He pauses dramatically for effect. “Simultaneously. Color lights first, then white lights. Overlapping, of course, cuz that shit looks good together.” He points at the paper, moving his finger down. “Some of those cranberry string things that Bits made, then Ornament Box One, followed by Ornament Box Two. Finally, the puck that tops the tree.” Holster snaps his fingers at each addition to the list, nodding sagely. Chowder raises his hand.

“Yes, Chowder?”

“Do I have to get near the puck?”

“No, Chowder.” Chowder looks relieved. “Nursey, Dex, you two get started on the white lights from below. Ollie and Wicks, you guys go from above. Lards, you and Chowder can start setting out the ornaments. Bits, you look like you’re itching to bake something.” Bitty looks shifty and side eyes the kitchen.

“Ya’ll know that the smell of some good ole pie will just festive this place right up?” he says.

“Sure, Bits.” Holster replies, shaking his head fondly. “Go on, bake away, my little Christmas elf.” Bitty socks him in the shoulder, gently, and moves off through the doorway, turning up the carols slightly as he goes. “Alright, everyone got their jobs? Rans and I will be getting the lights on the porch if you have any questions.” When no one replies, he makes everyone put their hands in the center of their little huddle and break apart with a quick shout of “1, 2, 3, _team!_ ”

Dex squeezes himself behind the tree, gaining a face full of pine needles for his trouble, and bends down to plug the string of lights into the surge protector nestled there with him. He weaves the lights between the branches and sticks his hand out from behind the tree, waiting for Nursey to take the cord off. When ten seconds pass and nothing happens, he shakes it a little bit.

“Nurse.” No response. “ _Nursey_.” Nothing. Dex sighs and shifts to stick his head out from behind the branches, face a mask of exasperation. Nursey is sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking down at hiss phone. “ _Derek Nurse, I swear to God I will end you._ ” Dex hisses out. Nursey twitches and looks up to see Dex’s red face clashing horribly with his hair. Dex shakes the lights rather aggressively and looks pointedly at them.

“You with us, bud?” he asks.

“Chyeah, relax,” Nursey replies, cool as the snowbanks outside. He takes the lights and the brush of his warm fingers against Dex’s sets a small flame into his chest and has his blush rise even higher. Dex ducks back behind the tree, shifting to get the lights from Nursey again. They loop back and forth like this for the next ten minutes, adding in other strings of lights as they run out of length, passing the bunch back and forth until they switch off with Ollie and Wicks at the halfway point.

Thirty minutes later, the tree is covered in lights, twinkling brightly in the Haus living room, the soft glow illuminating the faces of the team as they stand around admiring the fir. Bitty had come in to weave the cranberry string through the front of the tree, the bright red berries a beautiful counterpoint to the deep green of the fir needles. Lardo claps her hands together and moves forward to bestow the First Ornament into Holster’s reverent hands.

The First Ornament has an origin story none of them knows. As far as they can tell, it’s been part of the Haus as long as it’s been inhabited by the SMH. That is, to say, for a long ass time. The Ornament is a battered hockey player, stick raised in a mock-up of a slapshot. He’s missing the blade on one of his skates and the paint on his face is so worn away that you can barely tell what the color of his eyes are anymore. It’s tradition that the graduating seniors put the First Ornament up, so Rans, Holtzy, and Lardo grip the string together and solemnly place the player on a branch in the center of the tree, lights flashing off his single skate blade. The team dutifully applauds before dispersing to pick out other ornaments to complete the decorations.

Dex laughs until his stomach hurts over some of the ornaments that Lardo had requested from their homes; Bitty’s baby pictures are absolutely angelic, of course, and Holster couldn’t seem to take a photo without having his mouth open in what seems to be a rebel yell. Chowder smiled so big that his eyes practically disappear behind his massive cheeks, and Ollie’s handprint doesn’t even fit into his own palm now.

Nursey is the one to find Dex’s ornament, grinning down at it before cracking up.

“Oh my god, Dex. Are these your siblings? Which one is _you_?” Dex shoulders up to him and takes the picture in its ornament to point out which of the six kids is him. All of them except one has the same fiery red hair, but everybody has the signature Poindexter freckles and crooked smile. Nursey squints at the picture and pokes at the two boys at the bottom.

“You’re one of these guys, right?”

“Yeah, what gave it away?” Nursey looks up and smiles. He reaches out, and Dex holds his breath as he brushes a finger over the shell of Dex’s ear.

“These did,” Nursey says quietly. “I’d know them anywhere.” Dex stares at him until a burst of laughter from Ransom breaks the spell. He points at the kid missing his front teeth.

“That’s me,” he grins down at the photo, “Kieran knocked out my baby teeth on the ice.”

“Still cheesin’, though,” Nursey says.

“Still cheesin’.” Nursey hands him the ornament and nudges his shoulder, expression soft.

The rest of the night passes in a whirl of warmth and laughter brought on by the holiday spirit and the holiday _spirits_ Bitty had put into their spiced cider. Eventually, everyone had cleared out of the Haus except those who lived there and the three Frogs, who were propped up against the couch, Chowder asleep on Dex’s thigh and Nursey pressed against his shoulder.

The two of them take in the sight of the completed Christmas tree across the room. It’s crowded by mismatched ornaments and a riot of colors, but it looks like a labor of love. The lights weave in and out of the dark branches and spread their colors out into the room like the soft caress of a mother. The puck on top gleams in its halo, shining brightly despite its dark color, and the bottom of the tree even has a few early presents stashed underneath, their wrapping paper reflecting the lights further into the room.

“It looks pretty good, huh,” Dex muses, quietly so that Chowder doesn’t wake up. He turns to look over at Nursey, who shifts at the same time; their noses brush and Nursey startles back, but not violently. He stares wide-eyed at Dex, his green-grey gaze sharp as it flits over his features, glancing over his own amber eyes and lingering a half-second too long on his lips.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, it does.” Dex watches the play of light across his face, the reflection of the tree sparkling in his eyes, and, for once in his life, doesn’t feel afraid. Without looking away, he reaches for Nursey’s hand, weaving his fingers in between Nursey’s and watching his expression change from surprised to realization to surprised again, then settling on a kind of warm fondness that Dex has only rarely seen break through the whole _chill_ exterior.

Dex brings up their joined hands and presses a kiss to Nursey’s knuckles, still maintaining eye contact. Nursey smiles at him and tightens his grip on Dex’s fingers.

Dex smiles back.


	6. Lending a Hat

Derek trudges out of Annie’s, two coffees in hand, to find Dex shuffling in place outside, bright hair sticking straight up in the air. His cheeks are bright red and his breath fogs out in front of him in the cold. Derek raises a brow, because Dex’s hair is nothing if not uniformly parted most of the time.

“You alright, man?” Derek asks. Dex knocks the snow off his left boot on the side of the brick building and accepts his coffee, gloved hands wrapping tight around the hot cup. Dex nods at him in thanks and breathes in the steam from his drink, eyes half-lidded, before replying.

“Mmm. Spent too long in the shower, had to hustle to get here.” Derek gestures at his head.

“So that’s why the hatless outing?” Dex gives a rueful shrug and starts walking towards the center of campus.

“By the time I remembered, I was out of the dorm, and it had already frozen solid.”

“Dex, that’s like Rule Numero Uno. Cover your wet hair.”

“Oh, thanks, Captain Obvious.”

“You’re welcome, Sargent Sarcasm.” Dex snorts.

“Keep it going, Major Pain-In-The-Ass.”

“No problem, Colonel Comeback.”

“Shut it, General Jackass.” Derek’s silent for a moment before grudgingly admitting defeat by shoving Dex into a hedge on the edge of the sidewalk. He doesn’t fall, damn his athletic ability, but he does knock into some overhanging branches which, overladen with the recent snowfall, dump their burdens onto his shoulders and down his open collar. Dex yelps and scrambles back towards Derek, trying to scoop the freezing snow out of his shirt before it melts and sends frigid water down his spine.

Derek watches in amusement but graciously takes Dex’s drink when he’s trying to shake out his jacket one-handed. Dex narrows his eyes at him, which, _rude_ , but Derek supposes this whole thing is at least a little bit his fault, so.

Dex finally gets himself back in order and takes his coffee back from Derek, his nose and cheeks bright red from the wind that whips past them as they walk. Derek watches from the corner of his eye and Dex shivers, curling in tight around his core as a particularly vicious blast of wind cuts by. Derek rolls his eyes and tosses his empty cup in the recycling bin nearby before he turns to Dex.

“Come here, stupid,” he says. Dex moves back from his reaching hands automatically, too used to the sibling shenanigans he grew up with to automatically accept personal invasions like that. Derek gives him a look.

“What?” Dex says back, fidgeting slightly.

“Chill out, man, I’m not gonna bite you.” Derek frowns at him when Dex blushes bright red, turning his face in profile as he mutters something to himself. Derek reaches forward and turns his collar up against the wind, hands brushing against the pale skin of Dex’s neck. He can’t feel very much, given that he’s wearing gloves, but it looks soft.

Derek’s eyes catch on a patch of freckles under the corner of Dex’s jaw; he follows the sharp line of it to his chin, then up to his lips, which are slightly parted, his warm breaths steaming out in the space between them. Distractedly, Derek moves his gaze up Dex’s fine nose, unbroken, which is unusual for a hockey player and even more unusual for a defenseman. He finally meets Dex’s gaze, green-grey eyes matching the surprise in the amber ones across from them, framed by surprisingly thick lashes. Derek doesn’t realize he’s staring until Dex blinks, having caught a snowflake too close to his eye.

Derek shakes his head and takes his hands off of where they’re still pressed against Dex’s neck, resting on his shoulders. He brushes off Dex’s coat and lifts his hands to his own head instead.

Derek takes off his beanie and tugs it over Dex’s stiff hair, tucking in a few stray strands of red as they reveal themselves. He steps closer to adjust it and is surprised at how much heat Dex puts off, feeling it sharply even from a foot away. Derek drops his hand, smoothing one down Dex’s chest, almost too absentmindedly.

“There,” he says quietly, “no more hatless adventure.” Dex is still staring at him, wide eyed, when Derek meets his gaze again. Derek is going to do something he regrets if he stays this close, so he about faces and walks forward again. When he doesn’t hear Dex’s footsteps behind him, he oh-so-casually flicks a glance over his shoulder.

Dex has one hand still around his coffee cup, but the other is feeling the edge of the beanie, long fingers pressed to the soft edge where it brushes Dex’s eyebrow. He’s looking down at the sidewalk, but the expression on his face shifts from surprise to something else as Derek watches. Unaware of Derek’s gaze, he gives a little grin to the snowbank by his boot, face lighting up in the winter chill.

Derek stumbles over his own feet and skids a little on an icy patch. He doesn’t think he’ll turn around next time he’s afraid. Next time, Derek will lean forward.


	7. Snowball Fight

The sun spills its golden light across Old Quad as it sets just behind Faber, shining brightly as it reflects into Dex’s eyes off the fresh snowfall. He’s spent the last three hours in a lecture hall taking one of his finals and relishes the chance to stretch his legs before settling down again to study for his next exam. His eyes catch on movement across the abandoned Quad, watching as a strikingly familiar figure skids on the ice covering the sidewalk and drops whatever papers he’s holding. Dex rolls his eyes, knowing the affection is too honest on his face for comfort.

Typical Nursey.

Dex cocks a considering eyebrow as he bounces slightly on his toes, built-up energy needing some sort of release. He bends down to scoop up two handfuls of snow in his palms, squishing and shaping it into a ball, scraping off the edges until he gets a perfectly aerodynamic missile. He takes a step into the snow and, having judged the distance to Nursey, who is straightening up from gathering his papers, cocks his arm back and launches his snowball.

Nursey startles and drops his papers again when the ball explodes directly on his shoulder blade. Dex cracks up when he hears him yelp, already bending down to make another snowball, watching as Nursey spins around to see Dex laughing at him from across the Quad.

“Is that how it’s going to be?” He yells.

“That’s how it is, Nurse!” Dex throws his snowball and watches Nursey duck away just in time, dropping his bag and scooping up snow in the same motion. Dex’s eyes sharpen and he starts across the Quad towards the center of it, where the groundskeepers have already cleared the snow off the sidewalks.

He keeps an eye on Nursey as he scurries, looking on as he straightens up to throw his snowball at Dex. He artfully doges and laughs when Nursey takes off to meet him at opposite sides of the center, teeth white against his skin as he grins at Dex, eyes mischievous now that Dex can see him up close.

Dex ducks behind one of the banks of cleared snow and begins to make an absurd number of snowballs, methodically scooping and shaping until he has a stockpile ready. Dex is no stranger to snowball fights; he and his brothers and sisters had spent hours locked in epic battles that ranged from their driveway to their whole neighborhood, complete with ambushes and tactics that could have come from Hannibal himself. He’s so busy thinking about what he’s going to do first that he forgets one thing about Derek Nurse: he doesn’t play by the rules.

Dex jumps right out of skin when a load of powdery snow showers down over him, slipping down his collar to his back, getting caught in the gap between his gloves and jacket, freezing on his neck. Slowly, he reaches up to wipe the snow away from his eyes and turns to give Nursey, whose arms are still outstretched from where they dumped the pile onto Dex, the _look_.

“Oh, shit,” Nursey says.

“Oh, shit, indeed.”

Nursey turns tail, scrambling away, as Dex grabs as many snowballs as he can before leaping over his shelter and pelting after him. He manages to bean Nursey three times in the back, twice in the leg, and once directly on the neck despite his dodging and weaving before he catches him next to the river. Dex gets an arm around Nursey as he tackles him into the snow, pinning him for a second until Nursey twists his leg and flips them over, shoving a handful of snow into Dex’s chest.

Dex can’t help but to laugh up at him, deep, chest bursting guffaws that he can’t stop. It’s been a while since he’s had this much fun, especially around Exam Week from Hell. Nursey grins at him but is unrepentant when he shovels another handful of snow down Dex’s shirt. Dex yelps at him and scrambles up to wrestle again.

They go back and forth for the next few minutes, increasingly tired, until Nursey finally straddles Dex’s hips and sits, keeping him from wriggling away. He’s got his wrists caught in his large palms, warm wool of his gloves rough against Dex’s sensitive skin, pinning him into the dent of the snow they’ve created with their movements. Dex blows a piece of hair out of his eye, still grinning, and looks ruefully up at Nursey.

He’s looking down at him, green eyes wide, weight warm against Dex’s hips, lips parted as he breathes a little heavily. He licks his lips as Dex watches, expression still kind of transfixed.

“Alright, Nursey, you win,” Dex concedes, voice a little loud between them. “For now, at least.” Nursey’s eyes snap to his and scan his face, expression unreadable.

“Nursey?” No response. “…Derek? You okay?” Nursey tilts his head to the side, still straddling Dex.

“I’m…good. I’m good, Dex,” he says, voice a low rumble that Dex can feel in his toes. He leans back on his heels, releasing Dex’s hands.

When Dex sits up, he realizes that Nursey is a lot closer than he thought he’d be, given that they’re practically sharing breath right now. This close, Dex can pick out the shades of green in his eyes, the pink of his lips as they part on a breath of surprise, the thick spread of his eyelashes as he blinks. The sounds of the campus beyond them are muffled by the dense layer of snow, leaving them in a little bubble that refuses to break as the sun slips behind the rink.

Dex watches as Nursey’s eyes slip shut, feels as he shifts his weight forward.

Nursey kisses like he writes. He gets his whole body engaged, his hands tentatively brought up to cup Dex’s jaw as his lips move slowly against Dex’s own. He furrows his brows together, eyes shut, a sign of his hesitation that only gets more pronounced as Dex doesn’t respond.

He pulls away, eyes still closed, and stammers out an apology, head turned away from Dex’s sharp gaze. Nursey starts to move off of his legs when Dex reaches out, just now computing all this, and clamps a hand down onto his shoulder.

“Nursey,” he says, half-dazed, “give me a second, will you? It’s not every day that I get kissed.” Nursey pauses, blinking at Dex is surprise.

“You’re not mad?”

Dex shakes his head. He reaches up and tugs Nursey back into place, gaining some facility back and smiling internally when Nursey’s eyes go even wider in surprise.

“This okay?” Dex asks, voice quieter in the small space between them. His hand shakes slightly as he raises it up to brush against the stubble on Nursey’s jaw, gaze focused somewhere around his ear instead of his eyes. His fingers travel over to thumb gently at Nursey’s reddened lips, then ghost back to curl over the corner of his jaw, tucking half his hand into the curls by Nursey’s temple.

Dex’s face is red, blush thick across his cheeks, but he takes a deep breath and meets Nursey’s gaze, set of his mouth determined. It softens when he takes in the expression of Nursey’s face, the soft fondness that Dex so often tries to hide.

Dex kisses like he codes: passionately and entirely focused, forgetting everything but the act of kissing itself. His hands still in Nursey’s hair and on his chest, his face relaxes, and his chapped lips catch slightly on Nursey’s mouth as they exchange kisses in the snow. They break apart a few minutes later, eyes still closed and foreheads pressed together.

“Still okay?” Dex asks.

“Still okay.” Nursey answers, catching Dex’s fingers in between his own, smile bright in the dying of the day.


	8. Watching a Christmas Movie with Hot Cocoa

Derek watches as Dex makes his way into the room, dark brows furrowed as he concentrates on taking slow, measured steps. Steam rolls off the tops of the two mugs in his hands, ceramic gleaming in the light from the Christmas tree and the TV. He approaches Derek, who sits up from his sprawl on the couch to accept his mug from Dex’s hands.

“Thank you,” Derek says. Dex gives him a nod and a smile but doesn’t speak.

Dex carefully sets his own mug down on the end table before flopping down on the couch himself, socked feet wiggling themselves under Derek’s thigh. Derek gives him a look but doesn’t say anything, blowing off some of the heat from his hot chocolate instead. The mug warms his hands as he turns to face the TV, where _It’s a Wonderful Life_ begins to play after Dex hits a button on the remote.

Derek grins to himself as he sips from his mug; when Derek had mentioned it earlier this week, Dex had launched into an impassioned defense of the movie as “one of the greatest films of all time, alright, let alone a Christmas classic, Nurse” until Derek had slapped a hand over his mouth to shut him up and explained that it was one of his favorite movies, too.

Dex had deflated slightly and pushed Derek’s hand away, rolling his eyes.

“Alright, well, we’re watching it later this week,” he had declared, marching away.

Now, here they are, watching George Bailey go about Bedford Falls. Dex had been up until 4:30 AM, relentlessly perfecting his final research paper for Econ, only to wake up at 7:00 to turn it in across campus. He’d taken his final exam directly after and, three hours later, had stumbled back to the Haus, completely exhausted. He’d resisted Derek’s cajoling about taking a nap, instead helping Chowder study for his next exam under Derek’s disapproving eye.

The circles under his eyes are mad dark right now, but Derek’s happy to sit here and relax with him as the Haus is silent around them, everyone off studying.

Derek hears the clink of Dex’s mug as he twists to set it on the end table behind him. When he turns to look, Dex meets his gaze and untucks his feet from under Derek, shifting sideways on the couch to lean his shoulder against Derek’s, pulling his long legs up to curl on his other side. He adjusts a little bit to get more comfortable and settles again, focused on the screen once more.

Derek doesn’t know what’s happening. They’re not like Ransom and Holster, or Chowder and literally anybody. They don’t just…cuddle, or whatever is going on right now. Derek doesn’t realize how stiff he must be until Dex thumps his leg.

“Just let it happen, Nurse,” he says, “I’m tired and I like this movie.” He lays his head down on Derek’s shoulder, arms crossed over his core, cheek pressed tight against Derek’s sweater. Derek nods dumbly, jaw brushing Dex’s red hair, and decides to roll with it.

He leans away for a second to put his empty mug down, smiling at Dex’s grumbly sound, and relaxes back into the couch, slouching into Dex’s warmth as he stretches out his legs in front of the couch. They’re both quiet as the movie progresses.

Fifteen minutes later, Derek’s arm is buzzing like TV static, completely asleep with Dex’s weight on his shoulder. He nudges his d-partner and shifts him up, twisting to wrap his arm around Dex’s shoulders, stilling as he feels his warm huff of surprise across his chest.

“This okay?” Derek asks quietly. Dex shushes him, the bastard, and nods. Dex adjusts his own position without looking away from the screen, but the tips of his ears look a little redder than normal.

Derek doesn’t realize he’s listing to the side until Dex makes another unhappy sound. He blinks in surprise, the quiet atmosphere broken as Dex jumps up off the couch.

“Fuck this,” he says, still exhausted, words slurring slightly. He leans over Derek, who’s sitting up straight again, eyes wide. He puts his hands on Derek’s shoulders and directs him down onto his back on the couch, shoulders and head propped up on one of the decorative throw pillows Bitty had bought to help “bring some color” to the Haus living room. (They all know it’s to cover some of the stains on the couch.)

Derek is still blinking in shock at Dex’s forwardness as he scooches Derek over to the edge of the couch and wedges himself in between Derek’s side and the back of it. It’s a tight squeeze, but Dex doesn’t seem deterred, tossing a leg over one of Derek’s and curling one arm over his chest, hand flat against his shirt over his heart. Derek is left with a long line of heat up the right side of his body as Dex tucks in tight, nuzzling his head into Derek’s chest as he shrugs Derek’s arm over his shoulder.

“There,” he says, self-satisfied. “Now, we can watch the movie.” Derek blinks a few times up the ceiling; inside his head, there’s a bunch of unchill little Derek’s running about, screaming in confusion. He spends another few seconds mulling this over before chalking up Dex’s sudden koala-bear cuddles to his exhaustion. He shrugs and gets his arm closer around Dex, allowing his other hand to rest on his stomach instead of hanging off the side of the couch. Dex hums deep in his chest, and Derek can feel the rumblings of it all the way to his toes.

On screen, Mr. Potter is calling the police. Derek lets the sounds of the movie wash over him as his eyes drift shut, lulled to sleep by the warmth at his side and the rhythmic, unconscious movement of Dex’s hand as it brushes over his heart.

* * *

 

The sun shines into the living room of the Haus, catching on the twisting ornaments and the brightly wrapped packages waiting under the tree. It peeks over the edge of the couch, skimming over where two boys are wrapped tight together without an inch between them.

One is almost flat on his back, but he’s shifted just enough to give the illusion of privacy in the space between them as his shoulder at the edge of the couch curls up. His left hand is tangled with the pale fingers of his partner, and their legs are woven together. His face is an expression of soft relaxation, turned to rest his jaw on the other’s head, which rests on his chest. His right arm keeps him close, wrapped around his shoulders as it is, palm pressed against his ribs.

The other one twitches slightly in his sleep, mouth slightly parted. His lips catch on the soft sweater he’s sleeping on, and he tightens his right hand for a second, holding tight to his partner’s. He’s twisted so far into the other boy that he’s almost on his stomach, but neither of them seem to mind as they doze.

The air is still around them as the golden light of early morning plays over their faces, the sounds of the campus stirring around them muffled by the snow outside. The two boys sleep on undisturbed, a spark of something as soft as the daylight growing between them.

**Author's Note:**

> Since I celebrate Christmas, I stuck mostly to the traditions I grew up with instead of possibly misrepresenting other holidays. I don't mean to disregard other cultures, so feel free to comment suggestions for other things I can add in!
> 
> 1\. Decorating the Haus  
> 2\. Ice skating  
> 3\. Baking Christmas treats  
> 4\. Shopping for gifts  
> 5\. Decorating the Christmas tree  
> 6\. Lending a coat/scarf/hat because the other is cold in the snow  
> 7\. Making a snowman/having a snowball fight  
> 8\. Watching a classic Christmas movie with hot cocoa  
> 9\. Singing carols  
> my tumblr is [here](http://sinbinhagelin.tumblr.com/) if you want to come cry with me about the beauty that is hockey, shakespeare, or literally anything else, since I have absolutely no chill ever!


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